


trusting you

by snarkymuch



Series: Broken Wings [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Wings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Wingfic, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: *you should probably read the first in the series for this to make sense, but hey, you might be able to figure it out*What's left of Tony's wings are sore and need to be preened. With Pepper busy chasing after Morgan and running the company, it's up to Peter to step in and help.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Broken Wings [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588876
Comments: 29
Kudos: 311





	trusting you

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one seems to be set a year or so after the last. I'm seeing Morgan as just hitting the toddling stage. I plan on going back and doing some earlier ones still, so don't be surprised when you read one with Morgan as a baby again instead of a toddler. I write what comes to me. This was inspired by an anon ask on tumblr and also a big thank you to jwriter819 for reading this over and feeding me ideas.

It was a quiet weekend afternoon at the lake house. Peter and Tony were working in the garage turned workshop. Peter worked on his web-shooters while Tony worked on the armor he was building for Pepper. Though his suits would always work for her, it gave him some peace of mind to know that there was a suit ready and waiting just for her. He hoped she never needed it, but if she did, she would have the best.

The afternoon light was casting long shadows through the windows, and Tony realized they had been working for hours without so much as a word between them, just the quiet background music that Friday supplied. Tony was starting to feel it in his shoulders and back. His wings had been aching more than usual lately, and sitting hunched over a workbench did nothing for his back.

It had been over two months since Pepper had preened them, and even then, it hadn’t gone well. His wings were sore, and he only allowed her to wiggle out a few feathers before calling it quits. The scar tissue hurt, but if he didn’t tend to the misshapen feathers, the pain would only get worse. For the last month, he’d suffered from aching wings.

Pepper was busy, though, and he couldn’t ask her to drop what she was doing to tend to his wings. It wasn’t fair. When his wife wasn’t heading the company, she was chasing a toddler. By the end of the day, she deserved a break, and Tony couldn’t ask that she tend to his wings. He didn’t have anyone else, though. The only other person that had ever touched his broken wings was Rhodey, and he was out of the state, doing the government's bidding, which meant that Tony was just going to have to suck it up.

He rolled his shoulders again and stretched his neck, trying to ease the knotted muscles and constant ache. Even if he couldn’t preen them, just letting them stretch would ease some of the discomforts.

He didn’t hear the footsteps approaching, so he startled when a hand touched his shoulder. His head snapped around, and he saw Peter’s wide eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just—I noticed you don’t seem okay.”

Tony licked his lips, letting his heart settle. He set the tools he was using back on the workbench and turned on his stool to face Peter. He forced a smile because he wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t tell the kid that.

“Everything’s fine. Just been sitting here too long. You’d think I’d get better chairs.”

“Oh, because it looked like your wings were bothering you.”

Tony frowned, scrubbing a hand over his face. The kid was perceptive. His shoulders dropped, and he sighed. “Yeah, maybe a little, but it’s not your problem, it’s mine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“I can help if that’s something you wanted, or I could go get Pepper.”

“No, Pepper’s been busy enough with chasing after Morgan. It can wait.”

“You don’t trust me?” Peter’s voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Tony could hear the edge of hurt in Peter’s words. Of course, he trusted him. He trusted Peter with his life. Letting out a heavy breath, he realized that Peter had already seen his wings before and not drawn back in disgust. They both knew what it was like to want to hide. If there was anyone that he could trust to preen his wings, to understand his shame, it was Peter.

“I trust you with my life—with Morgan’s life—it’s not a matter of trust.”

“Then what is it?”

Tony drew in a breath, shaking his head as he let it out. Shame maybe? I’m not proud of my wings.”

“But what happened isn’t your fault! You shouldn’t be ashamed.”

“Logically, I know that, but I guess my heart sees things differently. I can’t help how I feel, kid. It is what it is.”

Peter frowned. “I don’t think any less of you.”

“I know you don’t, kid.”

Peter pressed his lips together, and his brow wrinkled like he was working out a problem. Tony could see the gears turning. The kid let out a breath, licking his lips after.

“It’s not good to go without preening.”

Tony nodded. “Not really the best choice.”

“And you trust me.”

“I do.” Tony had an idea where this was going, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“I’m pretty good at preening, and your wings don’t bother me. I think you should let me take care of them—or Pepper should—but it’s not healthy to just avoid it, Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed. He knew Peter was right, but he didn’t want to make the kid touch his wings. He had the genuine worry that it would give Peter nightmares seeing the damage up close. They weren’t something that you easily forgot. The scars were plentiful and seeing cut wings … It was instinctual to be repulsed. It was unsettling. It seemed selfish to ask Peter to face all that, but then again, he was offering, and if Tony didn’t allow it, Peter would think he didn’t trust him.

Tony found himself nodding. “Yeah, alright, but if at any point it makes you uncomfortable, you stop. Don’t suffer for me. I know how bad they really are.”

Peter’s face lit up. “I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

“I can still change my mind.”

Peter shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “Don’t change your mind. I want to help.”

Tony swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a chair for this out here.”

Peter looked around, spinning on a foot. His gaze fell to the couch, but he shook his head after a moment and then continued searching the room. With a scrunched brow, his gaze fell on the stool Tony was sitting on.

“We can just use the stools. You can sit in one, and I’ll pull up another behind you. It’ll work perfect.”

Tony tried to keep a smile in place despite the nerves he was feeling. It wasn’t the kid’s fault that he was a mess. Peter grabbed his stool and dragged it over to Tony, taking a seat next to him. Tony had yet to turn around and show his wings. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt hot, and it was hard to breathe, the air thick and coating his throat and lungs.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to focus on anything other than his memories of Afghanistan and the stumps he called wings. He thought of calculations for flight in his suit and tried to keep his lungs working, though they burned for air. He kept holding his breath. He was halfway through another calculation when a hesitant hand touched his arm, making him snap his eyes open.

Peter looked at him with concern, worrying his lip. “Are you—are you alright? Do you need something?”

Tony shook his head, blinking a few times to clear his vision. His heart was still beating too fast, but it was slower than before. He hated that he got like this. It still happened with Pepper, too. Every time he needed to bring them out to be touched, he’d panic for a moment, usually until Pepper talked him down.

“Panic attack, right? Yeah, I get those, too, sometimes,” Peter said. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

“I’m—I’m alright. It happens. Nothing you can do. If I could stop them, I would. I hate it.”

“You’ll be okay with me touching your wings, though, right?”

Tony shrugged. He had no idea how he would be. He hoped he would be fine, but once in awhile, he’d spiral and end up cutting the session short, retreating to his workshop to be alone. He was getting better, though. It had been a while since he’d had a bad preening, but then again, it had been a while since he’d preened at all.

“Just know that if I get snappy, it’s not you. Sometimes I just get overwhelmed. I might say something I don’t mean, and I don’t want you to take it personally.”

Petr nodded. “I think I can handle it.”

Tony turned, so he was facing away from Peter, and then after taking a breath, he let what was left of his wings fall onto his back. He waited for the telltale sucking of air at the shock of seeing them in the light, the last time Peter had seen them it was in the dimly lit kitchen, but it didn’t come. He heard the chair scrape across the floor as it was moved, and then rustling as Peter got comfortable. He hadn’t touched Tony’s wings yet, and he couldn’t help but wish he would just get started, so he could get the initial feeling of panic over.

“You need to breathe, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s chest stuttered, and then he sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly. His fingers dug into his thighs, turning the tips white. He felt exposed and vulnerable with his wings out like this, knowing Peter could see every scar and misshapen feather.

If it weren’t for seeing the hands of the clock moving, Tony would have believed time to be standing still. His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. He felt like a live wire, ready to arc and react the moment it was touched. He tried to keep breathing, waiting for Peter to touch his wings.

“I’m gonna—I’ll start untwisting the downy feathers first.”

Tony gave a sharp nod but otherwise stayed quiet. A moment later, he felt a light touch against the stump of his mangled left wing, then he felt fingers scratching gently against the feathers. His shoulders jumped at the feeling, making his pull away from the touch at first, but then he settled back. The initial contact was always the worst.

The muscles in his back were already feeling better just having his wings out, though he missed the weight of his old wings. He still hadn’t gotten used to the difference. It took months after Afghanistan for him to be able to walk a straight line. He’d sway, unbalanced, but it eventually got better.

Tony closed his eyes and let himself drift, feeling the slight tugs and pulls as Peter worked over his feathers. He thought of Peter and how far he’d come. It wasn’t that long ago that he was touch starved, not letting anyone touch his wings, but now he was flourishing. He even let Morgan climb on his wings and didn’t shy away from the touch.

And that brought up a whole other thing. Morgan, his sweet little girl, was a raven like Peter. The last thing he wanted was for her to have to suffer like Peter had, and so many others did. He just didn’t know what he could to protect them. As much as he wished he could, he couldn’t change the way the world viewed all ravens, but maybe he could change how they saw a few. Perhaps in time, he could show the world what good a raven could do. Spider-Man was already on the right path, and he knew someday his daughter would forge a path of her own. The first steps toward change would be small but essential just the same.

“You should see Morgan when I preen her wings,” Peter said. “She loves it, giggles and squirms around the whole time. I think she tries to return the favor, but all she manages is pulling on my feathers.” He laughed.

Morgan was almost two, and already had a preference about who could touch her wings. Peter was her favorite. If that was because he was a raven, too, Tony didn’t know, but it seemed likely. Whenever Peter walked into the room, Morgan lit up, and no matter how upset she might be, all he had to do was show his wings, and she would calm right down, twisting her fingers in his soft downy underside.

“She loves you, kiddo.”

Peter’s hands stilled for a moment. “Yeah, I love her, too. All you guys—you’re family.”

“You know how important you are to me, and the fact I’m letting you touch my wings shows it. You know only Pepper and Rhodey have touched them before.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I mean—I guess I thought—yeah, never mind.”

“What were you going to say?”

“I don’t know. It was stupid. Just something I thought of.”

Tony winced when Peter touched a sore bit of scar tissue.

“Sorry!” Peter apologized. “The follicle looks infected. I pulled the feather out. Just give me a sec. I need to press on it a little more. It's oozing still.”

The pressure lifted, and then Peter got up, only for his hands to reappear a few moments later with what felt like a paper towel. The spot ached but in a good way as Peter gently rubbed the sore follicle, then wiped it one last time. 

"There it's stopped bleeding. Sorry I hurt you."

“It’s not a problem, kid. I’m used to the pain. Now, what were you going to say?”

“Oh, yeah, I guess just that I didn’t really get it, you know? It’s just a lot. I guess I knew you didn’t let anyone touch them, but then I really thought about what that meant and wow. I guess this means we're there.”

Tony snorted. “We’ve been there for a while, kiddo. I meant it when I said I trusted you. I love you, Pete.”

“Yeah, I, uh, love you, too.”

Peter’s hand brushed over the patch of scarring on what was left of his right wing. It made Tony tense, but he took a breath and steadied himself. The scarring made the follicles grow wrong, and they tended to get infected. The feathers that did grow there were smaller and misshapen, though there was the odd full-length feather here and there.

“Be careful around there,” Tony warned, digging his fingers into his thighs. “That whole area gets sore.”

Peter gently touched the scars and rubbed at the inflamed follicles. Tony knew what they looked like. Instead of being round, they were mostly stretched by the scars and warm to the touch. The gentle rubbing, though it ached, felt good. It was soothing.

The pain faded as he worked, and Tony began to relax, his eyes closing and shoulders slumping.

He heard Peter laugh. “You know I fell asleep too the first time you preened my wings.”

Tony hummed in acknowledgment. He remembered the first time well. Peter hadn’t let anyone touch his wings since his uncle. The kid had been resistant to it but eventually came around.

“I was so scared that something would happen to you because you touched them. It took a while to relax. Once I did, though, I remember how good it felt.”

Peter’s fingers worked over his wing.

“I’m really glad I trusted you. I don’t regret it, you know. I’m glad I trusted you, I still trust you, and I’m glad you trust me, too.”

A small smile tugged at Tony’s lips. He was glad he could trust Peter, too. He’d been worried about letting him touch his wings, but it seemed that concern was misplaced. Peter had been amazing about his wings, not gasping in shock or asking questions. He just quietly worked and let Tony relax. It was almost like he could pretend his wings didn’t look like hamburger.

“Do they feel any better?” Peter asked, hands still gently touching.

Tony hummed again. “Yeah, thank you. Really, kid, this means a lot. It’s been a long time since I was able to make it through a preening without a sedative. That says something about how much I trust you.”

“Oh, well, you’re welcome. I liked helping. If you ever need help again, just ask. Or maybe I should just tell you to sit and do it. I don’t see you looking out for yourself.”

Tony laughed, sitting up a little straighter. “You know me too well, kid, but yeah, we can do this again, if you don’t end up with nightmares from it.”

He adjusted his wings, and Peter lifted his hands from them. He turned in his chair, leaving his wings out. There was no point in hiding them now. Peter had seen every scar, no matter how small.

“Can I ask you something?” Peter was frowning. “You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t ask.”

“What’s up? You can ask. I don’t guarantee to answer, but you can always ask.”

Peter chewed his lip. “It’s just a lot, you know?”

“What is?”

Peter shrugged. “What happened to you. How do—how do you manage? How do you deal with what happened? I don’t like my wings, but losing them—I don’t think I would be okay.”

“I wasn’t for a long time. I drank and tried to numb myself anyway I could, but it was Pepper that pulled me through. She loved me despite what happened, and she helped me cope. It got easier in time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.”

“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry it happened. You didn’t deserve it. If there was some way to trade places, not that you’d want wings like mine, I would in a heartbeat if it meant making things easier for you.”

Tony smiled sadly. “I know you would, kiddo, because you’re a good person. Better than me, better than most people. The world would be a better place with more Peter Parkers and less Tony Starks.”

Peter shook his head. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. I hope that you and your sister start a new generation. You show the world what ravens can be. Hell, you can show the world what good people can be.”

Peter looked toward the window and then back to him. “You really think we can make a difference?”

“I know you can.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open to ideas. I am still working on one for a wing reveal at school. I think that would be cool. If you have ideas, send them this way. I can see what I can do. Find me on [tumblr](https://snarky-drabbles.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
